Innocence
by ThisOneWoman
Summary: When Max Caulfield finds herself in a romantic relationship with her photography teacher, her entire life is turned upside down. Little does she know that Jefferson has more secrets than she could have ever imagined. DISCONTINUED
1. One

_If only she possessed more social skills._

"Max, come here."

Mark Jefferson beckoned her. He was leaning comfortably against his wooden desk, able to relax after class was over.  
Maxine Caulfield was surprised to see Victoria had already left. Normally she would stick around for at least a minute, asking the teacher an innocent question about photography, and trying to get a conversation going. Whatever, Victoria was just annoying anyway. Maxine didn't understand how Jefferson could handle her with such patience, like he was giving her the benefit of the doubt. Like he couldn't see how much she was trying to kiss his ass for better grades. Bad, Victoria, bad.  
Or perhaps he just loved talking about art, and it didn't matter to him who his conversation partner was.

Maxine shuffled towards the man, not sure what could be the problem. She hadn't really been paying attention during the lesson, but then again, she rarely did, so that wouldn't be any reason to call her out. And she had handed in he r photo for the last assignment, so she was okay on that too. (The assignment was to represent an emotion or a sensation that you have recently felt visually. Maxine had taken a picture of a few autumn leaves on the pavement, and added a black-and-white filter. It was supposed to show loneliness.)

She stood by Jefferson's desk, her fingers loosely intertwined. He granted her a small smile before talking:  
"How have you been lately, Max?"

Said girl wasn't sure how to react to that nonchalant question from her teacher. "Uhm… Things have been going pretty well." She stopped talking for a second, but he seemed to be waiting for more, so she added: "I've been keeping busy with photography… and stuff."

Jefferson looked at her for a few seconds more, before seeming content with the answer.

"I see… An artist's life is always busy. So many moments to capture, and so many things to share. Although you may need a little help with the latter, Max."  
He chuckled good naturedly. "I understand it can be scary to put yourself out there and go out of your comfort zone, but I can assure you, it will be worth it in the end." He appeared pleased with himself, and locked his eyes with hers.

Maxine gave a curt nod and then started to awkwardly look around the now empty classroom. The situation felt weird, and it was as if Jefferson expected something from her. He was one of her inspirations and also one of the reasons she had decided to attend Blackwell Academy. Surrounding yourself with successful people was a great way to learn how to achieve success yourself. She'd read that somewhere. If only she possessed more social skills.

She could hear Jefferson sigh almost inaudibly, and looked up to see him proceeding to sit at his desk.  
"I shall see you in my next class, Max. Keep up the good work." And with that, it was over.


	2. Two

_Then again, she wouldn't be as captivating if she was anything but what she was._

He was amused by her. They were, once again, discussing Annie Leibovitz, and although he knew she was one of Maxine's favourite photographers, the young student was, once again, spacing out in his class. Once again.

He wondered what she was writing about in that notebook of hers. It was clearly used exhaustively, the edges rough and the paper brownish. He thought he had even seen some coffee stains on one of the pages before; Maxine was sloppy.

"I absolutely love her depiction of the Queen. Maybe it's the romantic dreaminess of the scene, or the play of light and shadow. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I always get this sense of excitement when I look at those photos, like something's about to happen. It's like the quiet before the storm."

Ah, yes. Victoria. Probably the most active pupil in his class. Stella was busy texting what was probably her boyfriend on her phone, Kate was staring out of the window (where it looked like a storm was indeed about to come up) and Taylor was nearly falling asleep.  
Yes. Definitely the most active pupil in his class.

"I agree, Victoria. She manages to capture one's interest with ease. Do you also know when the portraits were taken?"

He saw her pretend to think for a moment. How modest of her.

"I believe it was in May... No, in March 2007."  
Jefferson produced a smile. "Very good. Leibovitz was in fact the first American commissioned to take the British Monarch's portrait. The four pictures caused quite the commotion, as Leibovitz had…"

Ah, now she was looking. Maxine's eyes were soft, almost kind of dimmed. She was a sweet girl, but she had an independent streak as well. And behind the veil of indifference in her eyes, Jefferson thought he could see something. Something hidden from the world. Something only he could perceive.

Photographers had to see what others couldn't.

And maybe, just maybe… He could see her. And she would let him.  
The sharp ring of the school bell announced the end of the lecture. He could see Taylor jerking awake. Pft.  
The kids started to slowly pack their bags (although some hadn't taken anything out of their bags to begin with). Maxine wore a dark striped shirt today. Her short hair fell beautifully around her face, and he couldn't help but gaze at her, albeit subtly. It wasn't his style to be caught in the moment; he was too professional for that.  
Maxine moved in slow motion, her eyes glued on the ground. He wished she would have more confidence. Then again, she wouldn't be as captivating if she was anything but what she was. That's what gave her her purity, and he loved that aspect. Her shirt shifted slightly around her thin frame with every step she took, and her…

"I found today's subject really engaging, Mr. Jefferson!" His blonde puppy stood before him, tail wagging frantically. Internally he sighed. What was she hoping to gain?  
It didn't matter. He had to play the Charming, Well-Spoken Teacher.

His voice was open and friendly as he replied.


	3. Three

_Perhaps that was one of the reasons why she was so into photography._

Maxine was leaning against one of the lockers while listening to a song Warren had recommended to her. She didn't actually have any clue as to what the artist's name was, but she didn't care all that much. The beat was rhythmic and the melody was vivacious, and that was all that mattered.

She could see Daniel entering the boys' bathroom. She observed he wasn't wearing his glasses; maybe he had forgotten them at home. Or maybe they had been stolen or broken. Maxine knew the poor guy was often bullied. If she had any more courage, she would step in and help him.  
Trevor and Zachary were hanging around near the toilets, chatting animatedly. Undoubtedly about a new videogame or film. She couldn't help but think Warren would have gotten along well with them, if he just reached out more. (Same thing applied to herself, on that note.)  
Kate walked by, and Maxine gave her a smile. Kate was a shy girl, but a good listener. (That also applied to Maxine, still on the same note.) And her haircut was simply awesome. (That maybe applied a bit less to herself.)  
In a corner Courtney and Nathan were standing closely to one another. Courtney seemed to be giving him something, but Maxine couldn't tell what it was. Knowing Nathan, though, it couldn't be anything good. Yet she knew better than to get involved.

Maxine preferred observing the world around her, rather than actually participating in it.  
Perhaps that was one of the reasons why she was so into photography. She loved taking pictures, capturing moments and immortalizing them. Her analog camera lens was to her what glasses were to some people: it allowed her to see the world in a different, better way.

Her break was almost over, when a diverting idea hit her. She took her camera (which she kept on her at all times), aimed it at herself and clicked.

Flash.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Max Selfie was taking a selfie.

She was alone, watching the other students inconspicuously (much in the same way he watched her) before eventually closing her eyes. Jefferson noticed her earbuds. Perfect.

He approached her casually, one of his hands resting in his pocket, the other swinging by his side. She didn't detect him, and nearly jumped when he put a large hand on her shoulder.

"Mr. Jefferson! You scared me." She took out her earbuds.  
"Oh. I'm sorry, Max. I didn't mean to spook you."  
"No, you didn't… I was just surprised." His hand was still on her shoulder, and he slowly pulled it away.  
"Taking selfies again, are we?" He made sure he sounded amiably. "Could I see it?"  
"Uh, yeah, sure." She handed him the freshly printed picture and he studied it in detail.

Clear blue eyes stared back at him from the paper. Even though the image had been taken as a triviality, it had a nice touch to it. The dim light of the hallway fell across Maxine's youthful visage from just the right angle. The girl had a gift.

Jefferson let his eyes glide over her face one last time, then returned the photo.

"You know, I could share a few tips to improve your selfies. If you'd like." God, he disliked that word.  
"My… selfies? Why would you care about them?"  
Did she really just ask that? "Max… Of course I care about your… selfies. Why would I not care about one of my most talented students' photography? I want to help you get the most out of your pictures. And that includes your self-portraits."

The female was quiet at that. It might have been his imagination, but he could swear he saw a slight blush on her cheeks.  
"Why don't you bring me some of your other self-portraits tomorrow? I would love to see them, and give you advice on how to…"

The school bell interrupted him. Maxine shifted her weight to her other leg. (Saved by the bell?)

"I have to go now, but meet me tomorrow after class with your pictures." He didn't give her much time to respond. Turning his back at her, he started to walk away.


	4. Four

_She felt honoured that he regarded her as such._

Maxine held tightly onto the brown envelope. She wondered what exactly she was supposed to say. The previous night she had spent nearly two hours trying to decide on which photos of herself to bring along. In the end, she had settled on about a dozen pictures.  
Hopefully he wouldn't think she was taking advantage of him. Yes, he had offered his help, but perhaps she could have shown up with fewer selfies, as that would take up less of his time. Surely he would be tired after class. It was also the last course on Friday, and he had to be looking forward to the weekend. She'd just tell him that he didn't need to view all of them if he didn't want to. She didn't want to be too much of a bother, after all.

She shook her head, as if to will the negative sentiments away. No, that wasn't how it was. Jefferson was the one who had asked her about her pictures, because he thought she had talent. He had said so himself.  
His words from the previous day were still resonating inside her head. One of his most talented students… She felt honoured that he regarded her as such. An incredible artist, whose opinion held great significance, had told her she had talent. The idea nearly caused butterflies to flutter around in her stomach.  
Of course she did know she was capable. Part of her even admitted she was one of the better students. Yet it was difficult for her to allow herself to be content with her work. For some reason, whenever it came to her photography, she felt as if she lacked, somehow. Which was one of the reasons why Maxine sometimes missed the deadlines to hand in her pictures. She was almost ashamed to show Jefferson her lousy work. Essentially, she didn't want to disappoint him.

Come on, Max. No one is perfect. You know he's right. You do have talent, and you do have what it takes to be great. There is absolutely no reason to bring yourself down like this. You can do it. You can do this. You have brought these images with you today because you want him to see them. Because you know they are not that bad.

"No… they're not that bad."

"Hm? Are you ready, Max?"

She looked up to see Jefferson standing in front of her desk. When had he even approached her? Had the course already ended?  
Looking around, she was met with an empty classroom. Even Victoria was gone.

"Spacing out again, Maxine?"

"Max… Never Maxine," she said automatically.

He eyed the envelope in her hands, then turned his head to look outside through one of the windows. Maxine (Max) noticed how sharp his jawline was in profile.

"It seems the weather is pretty good today. You don't have any classes after this one, right?" He faced her again. "Would you like to talk about your self-portraits over a drink? My treat. It would be a waste of the lovely evening, otherwise, right?"  
The smile he wore was warm and Maxine, though reluctantly, felt herself relax.

"Right."


	5. Five

_That's all I can do, as your teacher._

"Just water, please."  
"A coffee would be nice."

The small café had a cosy and inviting interior. Orange hues seemed to emanate from the walls, radiating warmth. Soft jazz music vibrated through the space, making for the perfect background tune. The bar, tables and seats were all made from dark wood (though soft cushions on the chairs made sitting comfortable). Small trophies, lined up on a glass shelf behind the woman at the bar, gave the final golden touch. All in all, the place looked elegant and classy. Much like Jefferson.

Said man had no eye for the décor - he must come here a lot, Maxine realised - and instead watched her passively. They were waiting for the waiter, a freckled boy who didn't look much older than Maxine herself, to stop by with their drinks. The café wasn't crowded, as there were only a few other customers. Maxine could definitely understand why Jefferson liked it. It was peaceful and nearly soothing, perfect to wind down after an intense workweek.

"So, what do you think of the place?" he inquired.  
Maxine answered truthfully. "It's really great! Do you come here often?"  
"Oh, sometimes, yes. It's one of the few normal places here in Arcadia Bay."  
They shared a laugh.

"Here are your drinks! A coffee for the sir, and water for the beautiful lady." The freckled boy set down their drinks and sent a wink Maxine's way before leaving. Jefferson looked annoyed at that, and Maxine couldn't help but feel entertained.

"I take back what I said about this place. It's an abomination."

Maxine chuckled. She hadn't felt this relaxed all week. School kept her occupied, and it didn't help that Victoria gave her foul looks whenever she saw her. Warren had been busy with a science project and Kate just hadn't been in the mood to hang out.  
In truth, Maxine wasn't really close to anyone else. Occasionally she would share some small talk with others, but there wasn't any real connection. Not that she minded. She felt perfectly fine by herself. It's just that sometimes she wished she would be more outgoing. Talk to people. Make friends. All that good stuff.

"You're not thirsty, Max?"  
Maxine snapped out of her thoughts. "I am." To prove this, she took a sip. The water was cool in her throat, refreshing.  
"We haven't even begun discussing photography yet and you're already spacing out." There was a smile in his voice, and she knew he was joking.  
"Sorry. I was just thinking about this week. Lots of things to do, little free time."  
He nodded understandingly, coffee mug in hand.  
She continued: "But I'm glad to be here. So thank you… for inviting me."  
He put down the beverage. Even in this setting, he managed to look professional. (Or maybe it was the glasses.)  
"You don't have to thank me for this. I'm glad to help out. I truly believe you have the potential to become great, no, outstanding. Just be sure to further build that portfolio, and show your work to others. I cannot stress this enough. You need the courage to put yourself out there. That's what separates the artist from the amateur."  
Maxine simply listened and remained silent after he was done. (Was he really done, though? Maxine knew Jefferson liked lecturing his students. Or maybe it was just her. And she couldn't deny she felt flattered that he was nagging her so much. It showed how passionate he was about photography.)  
"I know I'm simply repeating myself here, though. I just hope you'll take note of what I say. That's all I can do, as your teacher." Maxine saw something flicker in his eyes as he said that, but it disappeared as soon as it had come.  
"Now. Show me your photos."

Maxine handed him the brown envelope. He began taking out her selfies, one by one, and stacked them on the table. Maxine was glad there weren't many people around them. It would've been weird to have strangers look at her face.

"… Mr. Jefferson?"  
"Yes, Max?" he replied, looking at her pictures.  
She wasn't sure if it was the right thing to ask, but she did it anyway. "Is it okay for me to… to be here?"  
He was eyeing her now, eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"  
"I mean... Aren't you playing favours by giving me extra tips? Isn't that a bit unfair to the other students?"  
"Ah… Well, you could see it like that. But you are…"

He sighed. "Don't tell anyone else I said this, but do you see any of the other students actually becoming successful photographers? Victoria maybe, but that's only because of her family's wealth and connections.  
But no one has the same skill you have, Max. You have more… As I stated before, I believe you have the potential to truly make it. And that's why I'm helping you. Because I want you to succeed, Max."  
Silence.  
"Do you understand?"

Jefferson's brown eyes never left her blue ones, and she felt her face get warm. "Y-yeah."  
His words had really struck her, more so than before. They weren't in school now, and he had no obligation to help her out. Yet he did. And that meant something.  
It wasn't the first time he praised her, but it was the first time she actually let it sink in. He wasn't joking about her being one of photography's future stars. He was actually serious about her.

Jefferson appeared happy with her answer and went back to analysing her work. She wanted to tell him there wasn't any need for him to examine all of her images, but the words seemed out of place.


	6. Six

_It was like her face had been sculpted by angels._

It was dark. It was quiet.

Footsteps approached. There was a steady rhythm. Music formed by steps. One, and two. One, and two.  
One, and two.

Stop.

The sound of keys was echoed off the walls. Strong at first, then fading, then going away, then sleeping.

The man opened the door, which didn't creak at all (wonderful sound), and stepped inside. A switch was flicked and the modern room bathed in virgin light.

Jefferson allowed himself to breathe in deeply, for the first time in hours. His mind was filled with images of one particular Caulfield; her cheekbones soft, her eyes sparkling, her…

He put down his black leather suitcase, took off his jacket (also black) and hung it on the coat rack. Next, he made his way to the living room and kitchen, where he turned on the lights as well.

"Damn, forgot to close the curtains…"

When said task was done, he made his way to a large metal refrigerator. After having peeked inside he took out a banana and almond milk. The ingredients went into the blender (good quality at a low price, according to the marketer) and a creamy smoothie was the result. It's not that he was particularly hungry, but a quick snack would keep his metabolism running. Plus, it was rather late: having a substantial meal at this time wasn't recommended.

He contemplated turning on the television and catching up on the late evening news, but decided against it. It would be best to just go to bed. He wasn't in the mood for dramatic stories and political lies. Those people said anything if it meant getting more views.

A smoothie and a short shower later, Jefferson was at last wearing his cotton pyjama pants (light blue) and a tight-fitting tank top (white). His bed seemed to be waiting for him like a lover and he gladly accepted the unspoken request. Upon laying down, the mattress nearly swallowed him whole and the covers enveloped him in an intimate hug. (Good quality at a high price – but definitely worth it. Not that he didn't have enough money if needed.)

He lived in a fairly large apartment close to the seaside, which offered a magnificent view of the Pacific. The awe-inspiring scenery was one of the main reasons why he had chosen to stay in Arcadia Bay. That, and the town's peacefulness.  
His troublemaking days were long behind him. Not one bit did he miss the wild parties and the long nights. He had found true purpose in his art, after having lost track of it momentarily, and was glad to be where he currently was in life. A successful photographer as well as a teacher at Blackwell, where he could pass along his love for the art to devoted students like Maxine.

Most of the teens following his course did not possess any real talent and thus did not interest him that much. Finding a person like Maxine, however, a hidden gem, made it all worth it. He had been immediately drawn to her from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. She seemed to carry a sense of fragile, but oh so beautiful hope and naïve optimism around her like… an aura.

When he had seen her portraits earlier that evening his beliefs about her were further confirmed. She still possessed all of her qualities, clean like silk and silent like water, and had not yet been corrupted. Her beauty was only temporary, and that was precisely what made it so precious. Capturing such a temporary phenomenon, that was true art. Maxine Caulfield was a muse, just waiting to be worshipped.

Thinking of her in such an honest way made it easy for his body to react. She was so young and innocent, had yet to encounter the world, cold as it was, had yet to experience life. And as her teacher, he could teach… her so, so much.

Her purity and genius were simply stunning. The complexity of her skin, the outline of her nose, the shape of her lips, the length of her eyelashes: perfect. It was like her face had been sculpted by angels.

He imagined that face being manipulated to his own liking. He saw her posing for him enthusiastically, obediently. Willing to do whatever he asked. He would adjust the lights to just the right brightness, take out his best camera, polish the lens until there wasn't a single speck of dust left on it, tell her exactly what to do (and she would do it, exactly as told), and take the picture.  
He would create a masterpiece.

Jefferson could feel his body heat up rapidly. He sighed and appreciated the warm, tingly sensations in his crotch. God, he was so fucking horny. Later that weekend he would call Nathan, but for now his hand would have to suffice.


	7. Seven

_The story is prolly super predictable_

It was dark. It was quiet.

Soft footsteps approached. There was a faltering rhythm. Music formed by steps. Three, and four. Three, and four.  
Three, and four.

Silence.

The sound of keys was echoed off the walls. Weakly at first, then fading, then nothing.

The woman opened the door, which creaked just a little bit (hopefully not enough to disturb anyone), and stepped inside. A switch was flicked and the small room bathed in a yellow glow.

Maxine allowed herself to breathe in deeply, for the first time in hours. Her mind was filled with images of one particular teacher, and what he had said about her art.

"Always take the shot."  
Those had been his last words to her before they had parted ways.

Maxine remembered the complete concentration and care on his facial features while he was inspecting her selfies, like they were going to break if he wasn't attentive enough. For an awfully long time he'd been quiet, but finally he had looked up and given her a reassuring nod. She had done well.

His advice had mainly been related to her position in the frames and the source of light. She'd listened actively, but at the same time felt a mixture of both amusement and delight that he took her selfies, most of which had been taken on a whim, so seriously.  
They'd begun talking quite openly, in fact. About art, films, books, life. It was surprising how easy-going Jefferson could be. He told her about Chicago, she told him about Seattle. He told her he had been to Seattle before (to the Space Needle!), she told him she would love to visit Chicago one day. ("I'm sure you'll get your chance sooner or later," was what he had said to that.) He'd asked her to show him more photos, she'd promised she would do her best. It was good exercise, and she knew he was only trying to help.

Her phone vibrated in her jeans pocket. She took it out to be greeted by Warren's name on the screen. He had sent her no less than 6 text messages. Apparently he was in a dire need of help because he couldn't choose which film to watch that Saturday.

She texted him: 'Didnt u have a science project to work on?'

The response came a few minutes later.

'It's practically done. Come ON, I need ur help! How else will i ever be able to decide between inferno nd Crimson peak?'

'Isnt that the new horror movie that came out only a while ago?'

'What, Inferno?'

She rolled her eyes. (Though he wouldn't be able to see that, of course.) 'No, CP.'

'Oooooooh. Yes, yes it is. Interested?'

'Idk. The story is prolly super predictable'

'We're all stories in the end.'

'Warren ur terrible'

'ty'

For a while the phone remained quiet, giving Maxine the chance to change clothes and brush her teeth. She was just about to go to bed, when she heard the familiar zooming sound. It had to be Warren again.

She checked her phone and noticed she had received a new message.

'So wanna watch one with me tomorrow? Or both'

'I'll have to consult my personal agenda but Im sure I can squeeze you in somewhere.'

'Gr8 I love being squeezed'

That actually made her grin. 'Go to sleep doctor'

'( L_L ) ~zzz'

Speaking of which, it was time for her to jump under the covers as well. She was pretty spent, yet felt satisfied. It had been a good day.


	8. Eight

_It was nice and cosy and allowed her to unleash her inner rebel, as her friend sometimes put it_.

They ended up watching both of them, plus Spirited Away and My Neighbor Totoro. Maxine had seen all of Studio Ghibli's films and was crazy about them. Some might say cartoons were for kids, but clearly they had no idea what they were talking about. Many of the films and series she liked were actually animated, and she was not ashamed of herself. Also she doubted people being torn apart and their intestines burning to ashes was something parents would want their children to watch, animated or not.

Their mutual love for anime and movies was what had brought them together. Maxine was glad to have a friend with whom she could discuss all of her interests, not just photography.  
It's not that she didn't enjoy talking about photography: it was her life's passion. However she also wanted someone to whine to about an anime character's death or to analyse a fan theory with. She had found that someone in Warren. He was sweet, caring and had a lot in common with her. He was like her long-lost brother.

Part of Maxine did realise that he probably saw her in a different light, yet she didn't want to pursue that realisation. Not only did she not feel the same way, but talking to him about it would be awkward. There was no need to ruin a perfectly good friendship.

"-th to Maxwell, earth to Maxwell. Hello, anyone home?" The boy in her thoughts was now waving his bony hand in front of her face.

"I don't mind talking to myself, but then I'd at least -"

"Yeah, sorry," she interrupted him, "I wasn't paying attention."

"Heh. It's okay. I'm used to it."

Playfully she punched him on the shoulder. "Warren, please."

"You know I don't mind, Max." He smiled at her and she returned the action.

"I know, Warren. I should probably head back now. I still need to study for that literature test."

"… Sure, okay."  
Despite the fact that she had spent the day with him, he looked a bit disappointed.

She wasn't good with words, so she directed her camera at him and took a picture.

For a second he looked lost. "What was that for?"

Maxine shrugged. "I guess I'm just random like that."

He laughed. "You sure are."

Happy to have lifted his spirits, she said goodbye.

"Oh, and Max?"

"Yes?"

"Don't forget to read the manga." He was referring to Claymore, a fantasy series. She had already seen the anime, but hadn't read the comic yet.

"I won't."

He put his thumb up in the air as a sign of approval.

They had spent the day in his room, with the curtains drawn shut and the door locked, watching films and munching on popcorn and crisps. Blackwell had a rule which stated that pupils were not allowed to enter the dorms of the opposite sex (a rule which was very often broken – what could you expect form a bunch of teenagers? The security wasn't that tight either), yet once in a while Maxine snuck into Warren's room. It was nice and cosy and allowed her to unleash her inner rebel, as her friend sometimes put it. Maxine usually wasn't one to break the rules, but after she did it once, it had become much easier and she wasn't that nervous anymore. Now she had to climb out of the window and make a small jump to reach the ground. The female dorms were about a five minute walk away.

It was raining outside, but she didn't really mind. Unlike many people, she did not dislike walking in the rain. It had a rather soothing effect on her. The only downside to being in the rain was getting wet. And getting wet meant being cold.

Although it was early November, the weather was fairly mild. That afternoon (nearly evening) it was a little chilly, but nothing Maxine couldn't handle. She was wearing a jacket to protect herself from the cold, but because said jacket didn't have a hood, it did rain down on her head. Her destination wasn't far and she wasn't in the mood to jog, so she kept walking slowly. The sound of rain hitting the ground was pleasing.

The building's main entrance was now visible. Maxine paused momentarily to take a selfie. Why wouldn't she stop in the middle of the road to take pictures of herself, while the rain was falling down on her and her camera?

She remembered Jefferson's words from the day before: "Always take the shot", which basically translated to "Follow your impulses and photograph absolutely everything."

Perhaps she shouldn't take his words to heart like that. She couldn't afford to break her Polaroid, after all.


	9. Nine

_The world is already hard enough on artists._

He skimmed the text one last time before eventually pressing the 'send' button and closing his laptop. He could feel the anger boiling in his chest, and he had to count to five before it somewhat cooled down. This wasn't the time, nor the place.

The classroom was empty, still. It was a Monday afternoon and he had just finished his lunch. His next lecture was supposed to start in fifteen minutes, but knowing his students it would probably be twenty-five. Except for Victoria of course. The girl always arrived earlier than everyone else.

Which is why that's who he expected to be walking over to his desk at that time. He didn't even have to look up to smell the scent of her expensive perfume or hear the sound of her modest heels touch the floor. The only difference was… he didn't. No perfume, no heels.

"Mr. Jefferson?"

Oh.

Maxine was the one standing there, her backpack slouched over her shoulder, sporting a bleached pair of jeans and a pink long-sleeved shirt.  
She did not look bad.

"Hello, Max. How was your weekend?" he asked while leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, giving a calm impression.  
"It was fine, thanks."  
He nodded at her and remained silent.  
"I actually got some work done."  
"I see. Have you thought about our conversation on Friday?"  
"Yeah, I…" She hesitated, as if thinking about what she was going to say next. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out a piece of paper, which she handed to him.  
"You told me to always take the shot. I know it's probably stupid, but…"

Stupid wasn't exactly how he'd put it. The photograph showed Maxine, with her hair sparkling and her gaze drifting past the camera's point of view into the distance. The photo was a bit too dark to fully expose her attributes, but it would have to do. The slight parting of her lips was still visible, as was the darker colour in her eyes.  
Jefferson felt the weight that had been burdening his shoulders slowly being lifted.

"Don't talk like that about your own work, Maxine. The world is already hard enough on artists."  
"… Max, never Maxine."  
He sighed. "Well, I shall keep calling you 'Maxine' as long as you continue to talk like that about your photography. Is that clear, Maxine?"  
She looked displeased, but didn't give any comment.

"Are you feeling alright, though? Being out in the rain like that could affect your immune system. If you feel like you need it, I could give you an aspirin. I'm pretty sure I've got one on me."  
"Uh, no, thank you. I feel alright."  
He gave her a gentle smile. "It's a relief to hear that."  
The shadows of a frown completely disappeared from her forehead and her face lit up. Like a flower in bloom, he mused.

"Oh, and may I keep the picture? If you don't mind."


	10. Ten

_Maxine realised she enjoyed the sound of his voice._

"And while the circular polarizing filter is particularly useful, I now want to talk to you about the neutral density filter. Let's say that you are shooting outdoors on a clear bright day. You want to use a wide aperture so that you can create a shallow depth of field."  
Jefferson was walking around the classroom as he spoke. "However, with the bright ambient light you are constantly overexposing the scene. What would you normally do in this situation?"  
Victoria raised her hand after a few seconds. "Use a fast shutter speed?"  
"Yes, but what if it still doesn't work? That's when the neutral density filter comes in. You see, a neutral density filter works as a sunglass for your camera. It allows you to use a small f-number without risking overexposure." He looked triumphant as he said that.

For once, Maxine was actually paying attention.  
It had been two weeks since she had shown Jefferson her selfies in the café. Two weeks of pleasant conversation before or after class. One week and two days since Victoria had told her to back off. One week since Maxine had told the Ice Queen to bite her. Three days since Maxine had found her room in a complete mess, with a warning written on the wall and a disturbing picture of herself placed on the bed. One day since she had decided Victoria and Nathan weren't worth her time.

"Let's take another example." He gestured to the smartboard, where a beautiful landscape photo was projected. "Let's say you are now shooting at the beach. It's afternoon and it's sunny. Let's also presume that you are trying to use a long shutter speed to capture the tide coming in, in fact trying to capture the misty effect of the water." Maxine realised she enjoyed the sound of his voice.  
"Unfortunately, the meter of your camera is telling you that you are overexposing the scene way too much. If you take the shot regardless of what the meter says, the image will be completely washed out. To overcome the problem and get away with what you want, you will need to use a neutral density filter."

He had trimmed his beard and Maxine thought she preferred it this way. It looked cleaner, better kept.  
She noticed Victoria giving her a look, but chose to ignore it. This wasn't a competition. Maxine wasn't trying to be the teacher's pet to get better grades. She just wanted to pursue her passion for art.  
Thankfully not everyone was like Victoria. She had Warren and Kate, and had even gotten in touch with Chloe again. Her old (blue-haired, now) friend had moved to San Francisco years ago to start a band and the two girls had lost contact. With a little encouragement from Joyce, however, Maxine had finally sent Chloe a letter (hand-written, just like in Prehistory).

"Then there are some innovative uses too. Let's say you are shooting wildlife in Kenya. The sun is lower to the horizon and you decide to take a few shots of an African sunset.  
Suddenly you notice some wild elephants at a distance. Quickly setting up your camera and taking a few shots you realize that the elephants are not quite 100% silhouetted. A grey tone is still comprehensible. To make the herd of elephants completely silhouetted you can use the neutral density filter to stop some light."

She had learned many things about Mark Jefferson, such as the fact that he didn't like coffee without sugar and milk (black coffee was too bitter for his tastes) or that he had a fondness for jazz and blues. Truth to be told, she had never expected him to be so open about his life. She had always admired him and thought he was a pretty cool person, and those feelings only intensified now that he seemed to be letting her in.  
She wanted to learn so much more from him.

-  
NOTE: The information is from 'photographycourse' (as I am not familiar with photography myself).


	11. Eleven

_Was he testing her?_

Jefferson had just finished talking about neutral density filters when the school bell announced the end of class. Victoria bid him farewell (not doing it would surely result in a tragedy) and left in a hurry. It must be hard being popular, Maxine thought.

"Max, come here."

She was nearly having a flashback to three weeks earlier, only this time she felt less insecure. Her teacher was putting away papers into a small suitcase with his back turned at her. He was wearing a maroon checked shirt and dark trousers. Maxine almost had the exact same outfit at home (in women's sizes, of course).

Jefferson turned to face her, his features soft. "Did you enjoy today's lesson, Max?"  
She was thankful he had stopped calling her by her full name.  
"Yeah, it was very interesting. I've never worked with a neutral density filter before. I'll have to look into it."  
"That's good. It can make for some excellent photographs, though I don't usually use it. I tend to take portraits, as you know."  
"I know. I'm a big fan of your work."  
"… And what do you like about my work precisely?" Now he was looking at her sharply. Was he testing her?  
"Uhm, just the way you're able to frame people." It was difficult to think on the spot like that. She added: "By using a grayscale filter, the pictures become more… raw, more real."  
"I see." He seemed to contemplate her words for a minute, then shrugged. "But I'm not the only one here with a gift, Max." He had a serious tone in his voice, and she knew who he meant.  
Maxine had to admit that his compliments gave her a great deal of confidence, which had an effect not only in her art, but also in her speech, the way she presented herself, the way she thought. It was easier to talk to people and reach out.

Jefferson cleared his throat. "I wanted to ask you if you'd like to visit the Portland Art Museum with me this Saturday. You once mentioned you've been there before a few years ago, and I'm sure they've brought in many new pieces. I can drive us and pay the entrance fee."  
His eyes searched her face for a reaction. Maxine, on her part, wasn't sure she had even heard him correctly.  
"… This Saturday?"  
He nodded, still watching her intensely.  
"Wowser. That, that sounds like fun. Yeah." She wasn't sure how to react. Jefferson always seemed to surprise her.  
He continued in a smooth voice: "I've got a few good friends there, so I'll be able to give you a… personal tour of the museum. It would be an educational experience."  
Maxine couldn't help but smile at the thought. He was willing to do that?  
Jefferson chuckled lowly. "I can tell you're excited. So that's a 'yes', then. I'll come pick you up at 10 in the morning. The museum is open until 5."  
"But Mr. Jefferson… You don't have to pay. I'll do it."  
The teacher shook his head. "I have invited you, so I will pay. Don't worry about it."  
"Are you sure?" Maxine asked reluctantly. "I genuinely wouldn't mind."  
"I know that, Max. I know you wouldn't. But I said I will do it and that's final."  
He appeared to be getting irritated, so Maxine quickly dropped the subject.  
"Thank you so much, Mr. Jefferson. I'll be really looking forward to the weekend now."  
The wrinkles in his forehead dissolved like snow before the sun and the corners of his mouth curled up. "So will I."


	12. Twelve

_Maxine couldn't imagine living that way._

Maxine and Kate had been chatting for hours: about celebrities, photography, Christianity, guys, vacation, science… It helped to keep Maxine distracted from her thoughts, which were haunted by a certain teacher.

She had done her best not to think about him, but to no avail. Her classes that day had gone by in a blur and she hadn't been able to fully focus. Mathematics turned into art and art turned into Jefferson. And Jefferson… She didn't want to think about it. It wasn't right. It didn't mean anything. All that mattered at that moment was Kate and their conversation. Everything else could wait.

Kate was a good friend of hers, one of the few people she felt she could confide in. The young woman was easy to relate with, even if she had grown up quite differently from Maxine.  
Kate's parents were very strict and had never given her much freedom. Maxine was surprised they'd even let her attend Blackwell Academy. She was away from home, gone from their watchful eye…

Maxine couldn't imagine living that way. Being under constant pressure from your family, not being able to make any mistake, lest it be blown into a storm that swallowed you up and spit you out in pieces.

Yet Kate didn't seem to have a problem with her family or the way she was raised. She was very religious herself, and one of the better students. While Maxine knew she, herself, was good at art, Kate was better at… basically everything. She was intelligent and beautiful.

Maxine wasn't jealous. She admired Kate. That was one of the reasons why she didn't mind helping her friend out if the dirty blonde ever asked for it.  
Once she had spent the entire night with her in her dorm room, comforting her. Kate's father, among others, had scolded her terribly after having failed an important test. Everyone can fail and everyone should have the right to make a wrong step, but Kate's family didn't see it that way. That night… had brought the two females together, and they often met up for a cup of tea or a film.

Kate was currently talking about a book she had recently read, something about aliens and corrupt politicians. Maxine was happy to see her so enthusiastic, as the Christian was usually quiet and kept to herself.

"The ending was disappointing, though. After all they had gone through, to just let them die like that… It kind of ruined the story of the book. It made everything useless." She sipped her hot beverage. (Kate had ordered green tea, Maxine had chosen oolong tea.)

"But don't we all die one day?" Maxine replied.

"Well, yeah, but that's not the same. I think King could have thought of a better conclusion for the book. I mean, I don't know. I liked his other works."

Maxine herself wasn't a big fan of Stephen King, but kept the conversation going to humour her friend.

That reminded her: she had yet to read the last two volumes of 'Claymore'.


	13. Thirteen

_There was an important difference._

His breaths formed misty clouds. Not a sound could be heard in the cold, grey room.

The man stood in the limited space between the large white freezer and the small black door. His back was facing the only exit of the room, but he didn't want out. No, instead his intentions were very dissimilar. He wanted to stay right here, sitting down now, leaning his head against the cool object behind him, thinking.

He didn't often take his time to come here and think. Lately he had been… busy with someone else. Occupied. So he hadn't paid any visits, yet that was a step in the right direction. He knew better than anyone that real art was but a fleeting moment. It was a critical second, even less than a second, so short it was barely perceptible, and he was a master of perception. He didn't have any need to do this anymore. He had gotten over that, and he didn't need it. He was sure of that. He didn't need it. He just wanted it. There was an important difference.

The scent was still enveloping him like an aura and the voice and oh god, the moans, all still so fresh in his mind and he swore he could taste – but no. It felt more like a dream than the reality, and the reality was cold. His thoughts and memories were nothing but empty shells, he had a portrait with no model, no core and no meaning, no beauty and life was nothing without beauty. It was all nothing. It was fucking nothing.

His head was empty, yet full. Part of him felt angry, part of him was tired of feeling angry. The past was the past and it was over. It was never coming back.

But perhaps it didn't need to.

No, he didn't know if he could replace them, but he could… continue them. It would have never ended in the first place. He knew that. He knew what needed to happen and he knew he was more than capable of realising it. He loved that so much.

The next day he would be the person he always was. He would give speeches and play words and shoot life, but today, tonight, right now, he was resting.  
And of course he wasn't alone. He was with his thoughts, and that was almost as good as the real thing, if only he concentrated enough. The idea of using an enhancer was tempting at times, but he was better than that. Certain affairs needed to be done one way, and one way only. Yes, he could be a perfectionist regarding it, as perspective, lighting and composition should be completed very precisely. A filter to add the finishing touch would be welcome as well. Necessary, even. To show beauty the way it was supposed to be shown, not to change it, but to honour it.

He nearly chuckled. Honour? He was alone and it was getting cold. He had to stop thinking.

His breaths formed misty clouds. Not a sound could be heard in the cold, grey room.


	14. Fourteen

_She wasn't that type of person._

Rays of sunlight accompanied by the tuneful chirping of birds greeted Maxine that Saturday morning. The girl was still lying in bed, enjoying the warmth under her blanket. Slowly she stretched her arms above her head and held back a yawn.  
She had been waiting for this day all week and expected to be anxious, worried or at least agitated. Instead she felt a strange serenity, as if she knew everything would be alright. It was likely she had used up all of her stress already, somehow. Distracting herself had also proved remarkably useful.

The previous night she had already picked out her outfit: a charming light blue dress and transparent leggings, along with a pair of white ballerinas. Normally Maxine wasn't one for dresses, but from time to time she liked dressing up, if the occasion called for it.

After an early shower and a few last-minute preparations, one last look in the mirror confirmed that she was ready. She then proceeded to make her way to the place they'd planned their rendezvous. (Jefferson had asked her to meet him a bit further away from the school, or else people might get the wrong idea.) It was a beautiful November day, not too cold and not too windy.

Upon arriving she immediately detected Jefferson's expensive ride parked in the shadows. The man himself had been sitting inside the silver car and came out to meet her as she approached. His black suit was spotless and fit him exceptionally well. Despite his age, he looked… good. Maxine would have never guessed he was already well past his thirties.

"Max! There you are." He welcomed her with a smile on his face and Maxine immediately felt better about herself.  
"Morning, Mr. Jefferson. Are you doing well?" she asked politely.  
"I'm fine, thank you. Shall we get going? We have a long day ahead of us."  
He lead the way to his car and even opened the door for her. "Go ahead."

Maxine couldn't deny she was surprised at his behaviour, but still managed to disguise it with a curt nod. She took her place in the front seat where he had assigned her and tried to make herself at ease. Her heart was beating quite loudly in her chest and she tried to recall the calmness she had felt that morning.  
Apparently it had all come crashing down the moment she'd seen him. It wasn't every day that she got to spend private time with a famous photographer.  
She just hoped that if anyone she knew saw them, they wouldn't indeed get the wrong idea. After all, there was nothing going on. This was basically a study trip. There was absolutely no reason for Maxine to get nervous.

Jefferson got in the driver's seat and fired up the engine.  
"It shouldn't take too long for us to arrive, provided we're not stuck in traffic."  
Maxine replied: "Let's hope that won't be the case."  
"Yeah," he said as he began driving.

… Of course there was the fact that he seemed to have taken a particular interest in her, the fact that he was like a role model in her eyes, the fact that his personality and looks were -  
Anyway. Maxine knew better than go down that path. She was not going to let her admiration for his work confuse her like that. Next thing you know she would end up like Victoria, following him around like a sheep. No. She wasn't that type of person. Maxine had enough self-respect to know that.

"So, Max. How was last week for you? I haven't been able to talk to you that much after class. Victoria, you know?" He laughed, the sound rich and inviting, and Maxine couldn't help but join him.  
Eventually, she answered: "It was alright. I've been thinking about today a lot."  
He glanced at her. "You have?"  
"It's been a while since I've been to any sort of museum, to be honest."  
"Hm. Well, I know you have been busy with photography and that's the most important thing. You should bring a few of your pictures to school again."  
"Oh. Yeah, sure."

They shared a comfortable silence for a while before the teacher spoke anew: "Do you know Marianne Loir? They've acquired one of her paintings."  
Maxine searched her memory, but couldn't say she recognized the name.  
"She was a French painter who specialized in portraits. I believe I've mentioned her in class once, in one of the general art lessons at the beginning of the year. But I guess you weren't paying attention."  
Maxine stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond.  
Jefferson continued: "I want to show you as much of the museum as possible, but we'll start with the photography collection. If there's any time left we can view the other sections as well."  
"Sounds good to me."

The rest of the way they talked mostly about art. Jefferson told her about his portraits, gave her handy tips ("As a general rule, make sure your shutter speed is higher than your effective focal length") and asked her for input and criticism. It was almost like being actively engaged in a lecture.

Time passed by swiftly and before Maxine realised it, they had already arrived.

NOTE: A guest had a remark about my story, saying there "wasn't enough sex". To that I wish to say:  
Patience. All good things will come in time. This is about one fifth of the finished work (I haven't written anything in advance, but I do have a good idea of what it will look like). This is still pretty much an introduction: the real story has yet to begin. They haven't even gotten married yet:)

But since you're all so into them, I shall give you this: they will share a kiss in one of the next chapters.


	15. Fifteen

_He also knew that when an opportunity arose, he had to take it._

"Therefore perspective is something that depends on the camera angle and how you choose to positon it in respect to the subject. Focal length on the other hand affects how the image is represented. The two are not to be confused together, despite the fact that they're sometimes used in tandem," the teacher explained. "But of course you're aware of this already, aren't you, Max?"

Maxine was scanning a black-and-white photograph through thin glass, as if searching for something. Apparently she hadn't heard his question, but what else was new?  
She was wearing a stylish dress which emphasized her tender figure and it looked amazing on her. Usually she wore jeans, but Jefferson wished she would put on dresses more often. It brought out her femininity and helplessness.

She is so beautiful, the man found himself thinking. The absolute innocence in her face was simply astonishing. Her cheeks looked so soft, he wished he could stroke them. She was so perfect. He would've loved photographing her in that moment.

As mesmerising as she was, however, he realised he couldn't let himself be swept away. Soon he would ask her to model for him, but at the moment he had to remain calm and collected. It didn't help that he could already feel a slight pressure in his pants.

"Look at this one, Mr. Jefferson! The use of lighting draws your attention to the neck and instead of showing vulnerability, it shows strength. It's so cool."  
"Yeah, Maxine. Max." He coughed. "It is well done, indeed. Personally I enjoy seeing a strong contrast between light and darkness. Two extremes, yet irrevocably connected. It's poetic, really."

Maxine gazed up at him with large, alluring eyes. Picturesque.

"Mr. Jefferson… I really appreciate you taking the time to do this for me. I know you must probably be busy. I'm sorry to be such a bother."  
A bother? He felt his chest tighten. She was so pure. "Not at all. I'm happy to be able to guide you, Max. When I look at you, I see a future celebrity. I am certain you'll make it big in this business. And if you ever need anything", he paused for a second, "do not hesitate to ask me."

She smiled and it was torture.

The museum had a fairy elaborate photography collection. Maxine and himself had been wandering around for a few hours by now, and they still hadn't seen the whole section. Of course they would stop and talk at almost every piece (or he would talk and she would pretend to listen), but that was to be expected. They had something in common: a fondness for art.  
And more, he hoped.

He proceeded to conduct her further through the gallery, commenting on certain works and occasionally having small talk with her. He was glad she seemed to be more relaxed around his presence, as that would certainly make things easier. As a photographer, he knew to what extent patience was a virtue. He also knew that when an opportunity arose, he had to take it. Like now.


	16. Sixteen

_Her camera was her pen and her pictures were the equivalent of pages of words._

She liked the wind, she liked the grass, she liked the drops of rain. She liked the hair, she liked the hands, she liked the cheekbones.  
Maxine had no problem working with a diverse range of styles and techniques: time lapse photography, macro, black and white, landscape, fashion… She was a multifaceted individual, who enjoyed observing the world in different ways and from different perspectives. Life was like that as well: full of discrepancies and contradictions. Accepting and even celebrating that variety would make her into a competent artist, someone who people could look up to.

For Maxine, capturing a part of existence in an image was like keeping a diary: it allowed her to frame pieces of life the way she experienced them. Her camera was her pen and her pictures were the equivalent of pages of words. You could go as far as to say that her portfolio was nothing but an alternate version of her personal journal. One would be public, the other would be kept a secret.  
(Nonetheless, the woman never felt more in her element than when she took instant camera selfies. There was something so completely gratifying about immediate results, and not in an economic sense, but in the sense which allowed her to form feedback about her pictures while they were still fresh on her mind.)

She also liked her teacher's art. Jefferson mainly focused on depicting people in black and white, and she hadn't lied to him when she'd said the monochromatic colour, or better: the lack of colour, made the images more raw. By taking away all colour, he basically forced the viewer to acknowledge the light, the composition and the subjects in the photo in a very direct way.  
Ha. If only she could actually tell him that in those words. But alas, Maxine really didn't like being put on the spot. She needed time to think, or else nothing good would come out of it. Damn her and her clumsy traits. She must've gotten that from her mother.

Jefferson was (what wasn't he?) without a doubt the best guide she had ever gotten. He seemed to know everything about photography, and it was truly stimulating to hear him talk about the skill with such devotion and in such detail. He was walking through the museum's angular halls as if he'd been there a hundred times before. With his suit and tie he definitely appeared to fit right into the modern-looking environment. Maxine on her part couldn't do much else but follow in his footsteps. (And would she? She would love to become a famous photographer like him, that was her dream. But that was on a side note, of course.)

"You know what I love most about being a photographer?" Jefferson asked. Max knew it was a rhetorical question. "The models. The people. The emotions they have. The fact that as a photographer, you have to analyse them. Dissect them. Figure out what they're made of, to be able to capture their core, their essence, what truly matters. Only once you're able to do that, you can become… great."  
"Wow. That sounds beautiful."  
"It is."

Now he was looking at her, eyes full of something she couldn't quite place. "But some people are better than others, Max. Some people can show so much, using just a few features. Like their eyebrows, their mouth, their lips…"  
He fell silent and merely watched her now, and jeez, why did he look so serious? It was as if he was studying her with that dark, scrutinizing gaze, and Maxine didn't know if she felt comfortable.  
Looking around, she noticed they were all alone.

"Mr. Jeffer-"

"Max. I'm going to do something now. Please don't push me away."

Before Maxine could begin to realize the meaning behind his words, the man had moved closer to her. Very close now. She barely registered his fingertips across the side of her neck, because the next moment his face leaned towards her own and it all happened so fast.  
Oh, god. What was happening? Her mind was blank. Her vision was blurred and she let her eyes fall shut, and when she breathed in, the scent of his cologne hit her fully and her senses gave up on her and, god, what was happening?

His beard tickled her chin and the area around her mouth, and _her mouth_ , his mouth, it was on hers, it was so warm, and her first instinct was to kiss back.

His hand was a constant pressure behind her neck now, pulling her even closer, his body was nearly pressed against hers. His lips came and went, came and went, and they were so soft, and Maxine didn't know what was happening, but that had to be wrong, but it felt so right.

She slightly opened her eyes for a second and was met with two dark brown orbs, half open, and then they closed, and she closed her own again, and just forgot about everything, and lost herself in the feeling of a million nerve cells dancing all over her body and threatening to burst.


	17. Seventeen

_Was it unreasonable, even?_

The smooth humming of the car engine vibrated through the air, as the only sound beside their collective breathing, which wasn't very loud to begin with. Maxine dared to steal a stealthy glance in Jefferson's direction: the teacher's eyes were steadily fixated on the road. He held the wheel loosely and exhaled a carefree aura. In fact he looked completely tranquil, so unlike what Maxine was going through right then. She was sitting next to the man who… well, he was, it was wrong. She knew that.

Her brain was a web of badly constructed thoughts with shakily stitched patterns to form a misshapen entity and she couldn't find a way out. What was she supposed to think?  
Her hands were nervously playing with the thick strap of her camera bag, which never left her side, unless she was sleeping or showering, and the luxurious car seat did nothing to make her unwind.  
She was so confused and lost and her earlier reaction left her speechless (and thoughtless). And god, she could still feel the warmth of his breath on her skin and that certainly didn't help her situation.  
Why was she the only one having to deal with an inner turmoil of this size? A vicious storm was raging inside of her, almost tearing her apart, and the one who'd caused all of that just… sat there. Nothing made sense.

They drove in silence. Maxine pondered on the respective outcomes of both saying something as remaining quiet. She wasn't sure what to say, as she wasn't sure what to think either. It wasn't like she could blame him entirely: she'd also had a part in it. And could she even blame him? As unreasonable as it was, she had… not hated it. Her heart had beaten so fast, it still hadn't quite composed itself.  
Was it unreasonable, even? Jefferson was an attractive man and Maxine wasn't blind to his charm, but she'd never expected… Did he see her in that way? What did it all mean? Her mind was a vivid mess and she found herself gallingly questioning her own questions.

The car was slowing down and for the first time since she had stepped in, Maxine took the time to observe her surroundings. The street they were in looked familiar – hey, wasn't that building similar to her town's book store? – and then it hit her: they were back in Arcadia Bay. During their long trip Jefferson hadn't said a word, hadn't even coughed, and Maxine didn't know whether to interpret that as a positive sign or not.

The vehicle came to a stop in the shadow of the old oak tree behind the fire department and a minute later the two people sat in silence, Jefferson with his car keys in hand and Maxine fidgeting in place.  
Around them the world was peaceful. The sky had a greyish colour and the sun was about to set to introduce one of the last November evenings of the year.  
Outside it was nice, inside the atmosphere was crushing. At least that's how Maxine perceived it, because Jefferson looked as calm as ever, seemingly unfazed by the recent happenings between them.  
Her throat felt dry and she still had no idea what she was supposed to say, or if something needed to be said in the first place, so she proceeded to open the car door.

"Max."

The female stopped in her movement and turned her head towards Jefferson. He was still looking forward, although he wasn't driving anymore. Maxine couldn't help but think back to how his lips had felt on hers, even though she tried not to. God.

"… Have a good weekend."

Such a normal thing to say, yet somehow it felt misplaced.  
Maxine left the car and walked away, but not before muttering her reply: "You too."


	18. Eighteen

_From across the room._

The walk to school that Monday was dreadful. Her very first course of the week was the art course, and Maxine didn't know if she was ready to face Jefferson. Would she ever be ready? After what had happened between them, she wasn't sure of anything anymore.  
Kate and Stella had asked her to meet up on Sunday, but Maxine had politely declined. She didn't feel like she could handle acting in a normal fashion in front of them. Perhaps talking with them would have helped, driven Jefferson to the background of her mind, but telling them the truth was off limits.

Disinclined to it, she forced herself to enter the school building. As she stepped up the stairs the bell rang, declaring the start of what would undoubtedly be a massive pain in the ass. Through the sea of students Maxine sluggishly made her way in the direction of her classroom. Please tell me he's absent, please tell me he's absent, she repeated inwardly. A girl could always dream, right?

Unfortunately, no such luck was on her side. Fate had decided to torment her by letting Jefferson be there, engaged in a dialogue with a certain spoiled diva, but there nonetheless. Though hesitant, Maxine quickly walked to her seat, her eyes cast down the whole way. Maybe she should have just skipped class. One lecture wouldn't make that much of a difference. Damn it, why was she here?

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Victoria sitting down, and she swore she would die. Now Jefferson would definitely approach her. He would confront her about what had happened and she'd have no idea what to say. Shit.  
Her tense wait for the seemingly inevitable came to an end, however, when the teacher's voice fell upon her ears. From across the room.  
"Good morning, everyone. I hope you are all well-rested and ready to begin this session. Today we will dive into the world of astrophotography, and we will do so by discussing a few examples first. This is on page 341 in your book."  
While talking Jefferson had taken his usual place on the desk in the middle of the room, where he now sat insouciantly. "The most technical form of astrophotography..."

Wait. He wasn't going to confront her? He was just going to start with the lesson? Did he really have nothing to say to her or did he somehow forget what had happened?  
Maxine was sure she must've hit her head*: there was no way he'd let her off the hook like that. She had a thousand questions for him and he pretended that everything was okay? His gaze even crossed hers for a moment, not too long or too short, but just as usual. It was as if the events of that weekend had only been caused by her overactive fantasy.  
No, no, he had to be waiting for the end of class. Nothing was that easy. Maxine had spent way too much time thinking about their kiss and its implications. God. They had actually kissed. Even now it was difficult to believe, yet her lively memories were proof enough, and the thought of them brought titillating shivers down her spine.  
Jefferson was saying something about workflows and time-lapse, but Maxine couldn't bring herself to actually pay attention. Instead, she opted to simply watch him, the way his collarbones barely hid under his shirt, the way his hands moved (she remembered his fingers on her neck), the way light was reflected on his glasses.

She took cognizance of the not-so-subtle look Victoria sent her, but didn't outwardly acknowledge it. The Queen Bee really had nothing better to do, did she? She was bothersome and childish, but Maxine wouldn't challenge her if it wasn't necessary. She wasn't one to cause trouble.  
Or at least, that was before the troublesome state of affairs related to her teacher. Regarding that, she still had no idea what was going on.

Her nerves, which had settled down a bit in the meantime, revived afresh when the lecture ended. He'd obviously want to speak to her and she didn't know if she even wanted him near her. After all, what he'd done was in no way acceptable, seeing as it was punishable by law. But at the same time she couldn't deny the prickling emotions he instilled in her, and as a result was stuck like an animal in a bear trap.

It would appear fate had not abandoned her altogether, because a blonde angel addressed Jefferson and started a conversation with him. Fuck. Victoria was her saviour.  
Grateful, but still stressed, Maxine swiftly left the classroom. Once she was out of shooting range, she finally allowed herself to take a much-needed deep breath. It had been only one class and she was already so exhausted. This would be a long day.

-  
NOTE: *I laughed so hard imagining that. I'm a horrible person with a bad sense of humour. X)


	19. Nineteen

NOTE: This chapter contains sexualised abuse and manipulation. Please enjoy.

 _It would all go downhill from there._

"J-Jefferson. I need to br… breathe."  
Jefferson ignored the boy's plea and instead pushed his face further into the pillow.  
"Just a minute, Nathan. I'm almost…" God, the kid was so fucking tight and Jefferson loved it. He was so close: he could already feel the familiar sensation crawling under his skin, pulling, teasing, and it wouldn't be long before it detonated and blew him up into countless pieces.  
Unintelligible sounds escaped Nathan's throat, muffled by the fabric of the cushion. It sounded like music to Jefferson's ears and he thrust in with increased force, earning what was indubitably a moan from the younger man.  
Images of his favourite student flashed before his eyes, and he recalled the feeling of her quivering lips and frail physique and how _difficult_ it had been for him to back off. Oh, how he wished she was the one in his bed right now; he would fuck her senseless and make her see stars.  
"Nnngh – mm…" Nathan's beautiful voice was what sent him over the edge though. Jefferson grabbed a fistful of the brunet's sleek hair with his right hand, robustly bending the teenager's neck and lifting his head off the pillow in the process, and firmly held onto the boy's hipbone with his left, grinding their lower bodies together. With determination and a low groan he spilled himself into the warm cavern that was Nathan's ass.

His chest heaved and his clothes were sticky from sweat – he should have taken the time to undress before.  
Well, he hadn't exactly been patient.

He pulled out and felt a chill on his member. While it wasn't cold in the room, compared to a human body it was relatively colder, of course. Quickly he wiped the appendage with a tissue (there were two tissue boxes in his nightstand), then tucked it into his black boxer and closed the zipper of his pants.  
Nathan merely lied on the bed, motionless like a corpse. What a view he gave Jefferson: his gaping hole seemed to suck the art teacher in and the man had to restrain himself from getting hard again. He was more than aware of how fragile Nathan's mental state was and would try not to push him too far.

The bed shifted under his weight as he sat down next to the wealthy boy, who still hadn't moved a muscle. Jefferson began to gently stroke the hair he had sharply tugged on just a few minutes ago. His hand made its way to the base of Nathan's head, from where it slowly rubbed the teen's neck and shoulders in an assuasive action.  
"Was I too rough?" he asked with a concerned tone. There was no response and he sighed. "I'm sorry. I should've given you some time to prepare."  
After a few seconds, Nathan's dull voice creaked: "No… I'm fine."  
Finally. A decent answer. It would all go downhill from there.

Jefferson said nothing and kept repeating his soothing massage.


	20. Twenty

_He'd known she would come to him eventually._

"I don't know. I kind of think it's too bright, it obscures the background. Don't you think so, Mr. Jefferson?"  
Jefferson pretended to study the photograph. "Hmm. No, I think it's fine. In fact, I believe you could have used stronger lighting. The contrast would've helped to make the subject stand out, if you get what I'm saying."  
Victoria nodded. "I see. So should I use brighter lights next time?"  
Isn't that what he just said? "Yes, and try to stand a little closer to the subject. But don't be afraid to experiment. You can always show me the results of your work. I'll be happy to give you advice."  
Not really.  
"Thank you." She released a melodramatic sigh. "Sometimes it's difficult to find a good balance when trying to shoot a photo. It really means a lot to me that you're here to help… Mr. Jefferson."  
Oh, boy. Here we go again. "I'm just doing my job. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do."

He sat down at the wooden desk and took out his laptop.  
Victoria looked a bit disappointed (very much like a puppy being denied a snack), but gave him a smile. "Okay. I'll be sure to show you my next picture too. See you!"  
At last she left the classroom, superfluously wiggling her hips. Like a penguin, he thought. Talking with her could be pleasant at times, if only she'd stop her excessive flirting. Frankly, it was getting on his nerves.

He heard knocking and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What did she want now?  
Standing in the doorway wasn't Victoria, though. It was none other than Maxine. Pure, sweet Maxine. Maxine who had been avoiding him for the past days, but was now finally looking him in the eyes. He'd known she would come to him eventually.

"Max? Come in. And close the door, please."  
The girl reluctantly did as told. She looked nervous about something, and Jefferson knew all too well what the reason was. He made sure to display open body language by turning towards her in his seat and letting his hands rest on his knees.  
"Uhm, I wanted to speak with you about… last weekend."  
It had been so long since he'd heard her voice (way too long for his liking at least) and he took a moment to just appreciate its tenderness.  
Maxine started talking again: "I've been thinking about it a lot and I want to know what… what it meant."  
"What do you think it meant?"  
She broke eye contact and started scratching her neck. A sign of her anxiety, Jefferson knew. He stood up and approached her, half expecting her to back away, but thankful when she didn't.  
"I apologize if I've frightened you," he said calmly. "I would never do you any harm. I hope you didn't… You didn't dislike it, did you?"  
Her cheeks coloured a lovely shade of pink, and he knew she was reliving their kiss. He took this as encouragement and stepped closer. "Max, I think you know exactly what it meant. I think…" Now his hand cupped her face. "You're beautiful." Cheesy line, but it should do the trick.  
Maxine averted her head. "But… why? I don't get it. Why me? Isn't this against the law?"  
Or maybe not.

He lowered his hand and walked away, turning his back to the student. His voice was serious when he answered. "Yes. Yes, it's most definitely against the law. And if anyone finds out, I will lose my job and my reputation. So yes."

A heavy silence fell upon them.

After a short eternity, Maxine found her voice again. "I'm not going to tell anyone. I don't want you to lose your job. And I don't know if it's okay to do this, but…"  
Another silence.  
"But I think I… If it's okay with you, I mean…"

Jefferson turned to look at her. The young female was struggling and it showed clearly. Her expression was brilliant and Jefferson was tempted to photograph it.  
Instead, he replied: "I understand, Max. I do. And I don't want to rush you."  
She looked relieved at his words.  
Jefferson realised it was smarter to let her feel in control of the situation. Otherwise he'd risk pushing her away, and he couldn't have that. Not after all of his hard work.  
So he stayed quiet and waited for Maxine to gather her thoughts.  
At last the girl spoke up: "So… what happens now?"

"Whatever you want to happen, Max."

She coughed and he laughed.  
"But personally," he said, "I would like to kiss you again. If you'll allow me."  
At that, Maxine bit her lower lip. (Jefferson found that so seductive. Was she doing it on purpose?) Then she nodded. "Okay."  
Satisfied with her reaction, he moved to tower over her. This time he kept his hands in his pockets and only leaned in slightly, giving her the chance to either close the distance between them or change her mind.

As he had hoped, Maxine made the right choice. She was insecure and inexperienced, but he didn't mind one bit. Her lips tasted like heaven and he could feel his dick twitch in his pants. Conversely he could feel her practically melt into the kiss, so he knew the effect was not lost on her.  
And what an effect that was.


	21. Twenty-one

_Arcadia Bay was a good place to be._

Yes, she was eating well. Yes, she was making her homework. No, she didn't drink any alcohol. Yes, she knew drugs were bad.  
Whenever she got an e-mail from her parents, Maxine felt as if she was being interrogated. Do this, do that, don't do this, and certainly don't do that. It could get pretty redundant after a while, yet she knew they meant well. They were her family, after all, and they cared for their only daughter. It was only natural for them to bombard her with questions about her everyday life.  
She finished writing the last sentence of her detailed mail, then sent it and shut down her small computer. She wondered what her parents would say if they knew she made out with her teacher.

Never mind, she didn't want to imagine that scenario.

Grabbing her analog camera, her jacket and the letter she'd written for Chloe the Blue-haired Drummer, Maxine left her dorm and made her way to the town's post office, where she dispatched the envelope. She still hadn't gotten over Chloe's hair. The colour was way too bright, but somehow fit the fierce band member. Maxine had promised her friend she would attend one of her concerts one day, and she knew Chloe would keep her to her word.

Cushy clouds were scattered in the December sky and a fine-spun breeze had set up, marking the perfect timing for a photography session.  
Maxine decided she'd have a stroll on the beach: it was a pacific day and most people would probably be at work or somewhere inside, as it was still rather cold.  
Turned out she'd been correct: the shore was nearly deserted save for a jogger, a group of teenagers and a woman with her dog.

Arcadia Bay's beach offered a scenic haven of peace and entertainment and Maxine enjoyed living in the small town. Sometimes she suffered a minor case of nostalgia and missed her parents, but the opportunity to graduate at Blackwell was worth it. Principal Wells appeared nice enough, and the same applied to most of her fellow students. Of course there were some exceptions (one specific rich blonde being one of them), but all in all the people were friendly. Arcadia Bay was a good place to be.

Maxine spent the afternoon walking and occasionally taking photos of the environment. Her once-cluttered mind was finally at ease and she felt much lighter. The inordinate worries which had plagued her incessantly had drained her energy, to the point where she'd resolved to seek out her teacher and settle the matter, if only to get some closure.

At present she was still thinking about Jefferson, though instead of conflicting emotions his image brought her warmth. He was patient, understanding, intelligent. He'd even asked her for permission before kissing her, which had been incredibly sweet of him.  
Her heart started to beat a little faster and her head felt fuzzy and Maxine could only arrive at one conclusion: she was in love with him.


	22. Twenty-two

_Caulfield, composition and caffeine._

Elegant twirls of steam arose from the earthly coffee and infiltrated his nostrils. He inhaled, held his breath for an instant, and exhaled. His lungs felt purified and his mind was clear, allowing thoughts and ideas to pass through his brain without limitations, liberated and in an automatic way; smoothly, naturally.  
The centre of his world was nevertheless drawn, almost magnetically, to one particular point, one particular person, a young timid girl who happened to possess a gift for art, a young timid girl who was a piece of art herself. Thus the freedom of his thoughts was relative, and existed only in an encumbered vacuum in which the air held her name. Maxine.

He risked sipping the hot beverage, burned his tongue and cursed under his breath.

All humans were born equal, but some were more equal than others. Some didn't know how to stand, some didn't know how to run. Some didn't know how to act in the face of true sincerity and ended up breaking more than they could fix. And some, like himself, were artists.

The self-portrait which Maxine had shot in the rain rested on the glass surface of the table.

Life was like photography: a form of art, constructed by fleeting heartbeats and flesh and blood, where beauty was scarce and fantasy was key. Tragedies and dreams, sunlight and rain, people's self-centred ends, a chaos of contradictions and paradoxes and Jefferson was in the middle of it. He not only enjoyed it, but thrived from it.  
Because only in such an anomalous existence it was possible to capture excellence and represent it the way he envisioned it.

Cautiously he tried the coffee once more. It was good.

They said a picture was worth a thousand words, and he knew it to be true. A photograph only showed one short second, no, one fraction of a second, but if shot well it could tell a story more elaborate than a thick novel. The subject, namely the person modelling, as well as the artist influenced the final outcome. Photography was therefore finding a human balance between the one taking the photo and the one having their photo taken. Or he should say: creating the photo. A good photograph was not just taken, it was created, born from creativity and passion like a child.  
When he looked at Maxine's self-portrait he saw inconsistencies. On one hand the image spoke to him and told him a story, that of an innocent girl standing alone in a wide world, yet unafraid and powerful, an effect which the rain captured quite well. On the other hand the image had been shot on a whim, with no real meaning and no real intention.

He wondered what she'd been looking at when she had taken the picture.

Jefferson recognized greatness when he saw it, even when it was hidden under a layer of dust. He had the necessary skills to visualise it, and even exploit it. He manipulated people almost as easily as photographs: it was all a matter of perspective and discipline.  
And Maxine owned such a… persuadable face. Not too frail, it still had an edge to it. He realised he had never seen her angry. Sad, yes. Afraid, happy, flustered. Yes. His mental file on her was accurate and developed, yet he wanted more. He needed so much more from her.

He swallowed the last drop of caffeine and focused on the picture again.

Caulfield, composition and caffeine. That was a decent description of his current life.


	23. Twenty-three

_That's just fantastic._

He was leaning back in the chair, eyes glued to the photo in his hands.

Class was over and Maxine had brought another five pictures to school, since Jefferson had asked her to. The images of a squirrel, a sunset, and two of the beach were on the desk, and he was presently holding one of her selfies. She remarked he was spending way more time looking at her selfies than any other photo.  
That was because he himself specialised in portraits, she figured.

"The camera angle is confusing, the lighting is too dark and you appear distracted."  
Oh, so he didn't like it?  
"I like it."  
Maxine wanted to hit something. Jefferson looked at her with a grin on his face and put her selfie down. "You still have a lot to learn, but I know you'll get there in the end. You just need a good example. May I?" He held his hand out to her. "Your camera," he specified.  
The woman hesitated, but handed over her Polaroid.  
"Don't worry. I won't break it. Now… stand still."  
She blinked when the flash washed over her.  
"Max… Eyes open, please."  
The second photo was a success and Jefferson returned her camera. He showed her the portrait he'd taken and explained the dos and don'ts of taking a selfie, though he used the fancier word 'self-portrait'.  
"So the true science of photography is keeping count of all these elements at the same time," he concluded. "Though the light in this classroom isn't optimal. The use of different equipment would've also improved the portrait." For a moment he was silent. "You know, I would love to photograph you in a more serious way. At my house I have a professional studio and dark room. Do you think you would be willing to be my model sometime?"  
"Me?" She was at a loss for words. He wanted _her_ to model for him?  
He nodded and added: "I could create wonderful portraits using you, Max. We could meet up in the weekend or whenever you have free time. Actually, the more I think about it, the better it sounds. What do you say?"  
Maxine was absolutely flattered. "Wowser… It would be amazing to be photographed by someone like you. I… I'll do it, yes."  
"That's good to hear. In fact…" He stood up and approached her. "That's just fantastic."  
His hands were on her shoulders now and his mouth found hers and Maxine shut her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of having him so close. The sensations he caused in her body were delightful, to say the least. She held onto his waist while his lips trailed along the shape of her chin and jaw and –

Loud knocking on the door woke her up from paradise. Jefferson quickly distanced himself from her, just as the door swung open, revealing a (very unwelcome) blonde girl holding a binder. Victoria's smile disappeared upon seeing Maxine and she snarled: "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Max was showing me some of her photos, Victoria," Jefferson answered in her place. "And what are you doing here?"  
Victoria was watching Maxine like a hawk, ready to attack. Maxine herself was still trying to calm down from the… activity with her teacher.  
"I didn't know you would be busy, but I'm sure you can find the time to look at my pictures too, right, Mr. Jefferson?"  
The man sighed, but gave an affirmative reply: "I've got time. Max and I were just finished talking anyway."  
"Good."  
Maxine decided she hated Victoria.


	24. Twenty-four

_I shall pray for her again._

Kate's dorm room was cosy and warm, the perfect place for Maxine to wind down after a long day of school. There were religious symbols on the walls, like crosses and paintings, but apart from that it resembled her own room a bit. Except for all the selfies, of course.  
Maxine was occupying the soft bed while Kate was sitting on the floor with her rabbit in her lap. The animal was cute and Maxine had already shot a picture of it and its owner. Kate almost looked like a rabbit herself: small nose, big eyes, extremely huggable. People often looked like their pets. Maxine giggled slightly at the idea.

"What's so funny, Max?"  
Maxine shook her head. "Nothing." She could tell by Kate's look that her friend didn't believe her, so she added: "I was just thinking about an anime joke Warren told me."  
"Oh. Well, I don't watch any anime, so…" The Christian gently stroked the bunny on its back. "I've also been busy with school and stuff, so I don't have a lot of free time."  
"Same," Maxine agreed. "But I don't really mind. It gives me something to do. Normally I don't like falling into a routine, but from time to time it's nice to be able to rest."  
"Yeah, I prefer it like this too. It's calm and I can just focus on my studies. Do you remember when that girl went missing, like two months ago?"  
Maxine took her time thinking. "Uh… You mean Rebecca or something? No wait, Rachel. Rachel Amber." She recalled the posters in the school hallways.  
Kate nodded. "There was this weird atmosphere around the school and it was hard to concentrate. My parents even wanted me to leave Blackwell. I'm glad I decided to stay, though."  
"But they still haven't found her, right?"  
"No… I hope she's okay." Kate took a hold of her cross necklace. "I shall pray for her again."  
In that moment, Maxine was reminded of how good a person Kate Marsh was. Always thinking of others, always willing to help. Victoria could learn something from her.

"Hey, can I hold him for a second?" Maxine asked, referring to her friend's pet.  
"It's a her. Her name is Alice." Kate carefully handed her the animal. Maxine had owned a dog before, but her Golden Retriever was in no way comparable to Kate's tiny rabbit. The bunny was delicate and sensitive; it was almost like holding a baby.  
She looked up to see Kate smiling at her, a smile which illuminated the room.  
"I think she likes you," Kate commented and moved to sit next to Maxine on the bed. "I don't like keeping her in her cage all day. Animals need to be free. So whenever I'm here I try to let her out."  
"But doesn't she ever do anything wrong? Like bite the computer cables?"  
"Well, she's done that before… She has also pooped under my bed."  
They laughed in unison.  
"But it's worth it. I do try to keep an eye on her of course. I'm happy the principal allowed me to keep her. Normally animals aren't allowed in the dorms."  
"I guess it's because she doesn't need much space."  
"Yeah."  
Maxine returned the rabbit and took another picture.


	25. Twenty-five

_Peace._

Peaceful. The rhythmic breathing and the warmth of the person beside him allowed him to relax his muscles, letting the blood flow through his veins, letting his eyes close and see nothingness.  
Earlier that night the boy had shown up at his door, broken, whimpering and barely standing on his legs, and the sight of someone so vulnerable, so blindly trusting, had turned him on _so much_. Nathan had embraced him with arms of steel, clinging onto the art teacher for dear life, and Jefferson had gladly taken advantage of the opportunity.  
Consoling him after sex was bothersome and downright annoying, though. The thought of just getting rid of him, choking him in the ice, had crossed his mind, but Jefferson knew better. The kid was a valuable source of money and also a good stress-reliever, after all.

Still, he shouldn't have let him stay the night. Despite the fact that he didn't particularly mind sharing his bed.

He glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand, the penetrative red numbers informing him that it was just past four in the morning. Damn. He needed his sleep. Contrary to popular belief, teaching a class could actually be quite tiring. Instead of productively using his time, he was forced to spend his evenings evaluating shitty attempts at photography and preparing speeches for teenagers who weren't even listening. Why had he even agreed to take this job? Ah, right. Peace.

Well, if being hit on by spoiled bitches who thought the world revolved around them was peace, he wanted none of it.

The Prescott stirred next to him and Jefferson hoped he wouldn't wake up. Honestly, he wasn't in the mood to play nice and give him the -  
"Jefferson?"  
The whisper was impossibly loud in his ears, yet he pretended to be sleeping. For a moment there was nothing, and then: movement. He could feel a weight being placed on his chest and a leg snaking around his own and to his horror – and entertainment – he realised Nathan was snuggling up to him. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he resisted showing it, in case the boy was watching. The depth of Nathan's feelings for him was an unfamiliar point, yet Jefferson knew for a fact that the student loved him, and how could he not? Jefferson was the one who'd stopped him from ending his pathetic life and the only one who showed him some type of affection. In turn, Nathan would provide him with more cash than he knew what to do with. It was a good contract, a demanding one for sure, but it served its purpose.

It was difficult to fall asleep when he was so close to reaching his goal, however. It had been a while since the studio in his basement had been used properly and up to that day it'd been gathering dust. He'd tried doing it again after that time, but her beauty had already faded and he hadn't been able to bring himself up to it.  
But now, things were different. The first time he'd made mistakes, now he knew better. It would all go according to plan. He just needed to be patient. And Jefferson was a patient man.

NOTE: I have finally completely decided how I want the story to be. The entire work will have 50-55 total chapters.  
The exams are approaching and if I do well, I might get a chance to study abroad next year with the Erasmus Programme. Only the students with the best results get admitted, so I'll have to do my best now.  
No one will believe this, but it takes me about 2h to write 600 words. 2 hours every day of looking up synonyms, doing research on the characters and getting information, rereading every sentence ten times, and just figuring out what the hell I want to write in the first place. For this reason, **the story shall be updated three times every week from now on: on Tuesday, Saturday and Sunday**. I hope you understand the motives behind this inconvenience.  
Lastly I wish to thank you for taking the time to read my fic and leave a comment on every chapter. I read every single review and I'm not kidding when I say it sets my heart on fire. Okay, figuratively then. Please continue to provide me with feedback, as it is extremely helpful and I appreciate it a lot.  
So, next chapter comes Tuesday!


	26. Twenty-six

_Maybe she wouldn't even have considered it long enough to laugh._

Never could she have foreseen this situation. It wasn't just improbable, but also impossible. It had to be. Some things didn't happen in this universe, because they couldn't be and they wouldn't be. Trying to disturb this peace was like trying to change the laws of physics. No way.

What had been said: "This weekend sounds good."

If someone had told her just half a year ago that she would not only meet the famous photographer Mark Jefferson, but also _make out with him_ , of all things, she would've laughed at the mere idea. Ridiculous. Ludicrous. Maybe she wouldn't even have considered it long enough to laugh.  
Yet that was exactly the type of

What had been said: "I'm looking forward to it… _Max_."

laughable situation she was in now: she was completely and utterly seized by Mark Jefferson's powerful presence and irresistible charm and, strangely enough, her feelings were not one-sided. What the intelligent man saw in her was nothing short of a mystery, but as much as she loved horror and comedy, she had a passion for

What had been said: "Crap, it's pouring down here."

mysteries and the fact that she now was involved herself proved to be exactly the motivation she needed. She wanted to figure out the teacher who outwardly appeared composed and steady, yet was hiding a burning fire behind the cool gaze of his eyes, a fire which engulfed her sense of being and made her experience things she'd never considered possible.

What had been said: "Let me give you a ride."

As much as she'd tried to remain calm, almost trying to imitate the man who intercepted her thoughts and disconcerted her emotions so effortlessly, a… sound still made its way past her lips, a half-moan half-gasp, and the reaction to her reaction was immediate: a tightening of fingers, a firm pressure _pushing_

What had been said: "Doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon."

against her in an urging motion, a new level of intensity to the intensity she was feeling. Jefferson's mouth was doing wonderful, artistic things to her neck and she was certain he'd not only heard the near-pleading noise she'd made, but also felt it. And as a reward (or punishment?) he unleashed upon her his teeth, his tongue, his fingers, hands, body on hers, glasses long ago discarded.

What had been said: "I won't allow you to get wet."

A cold sensation struck her and she swallowed (audibly) as the palm of Jefferson's hand crept further under her shirt and over her stomach, where it traced slow, agonizing shapes, leaving her skin boiling. Her head felt light, airy, and she briefly wondered if

What had been said: "I'm sure we can find ways to keep ourselves busy."

this was what being high felt like: floating on an invisible cloud, feeling warm and fuzzy and not really being there, yet at the same time perceiving everything in a much more vivid and _real_ manner. It was as if her senses were hyperaware of every touch, every caress. The teacher's torturous movements ignited sparks in-between her legs, reaping excitement –

What will be said: "You too."


	27. Twenty-seven

_Not so much._

The photographer was waiting for her while the rain struck the earth in furious movements, creating curtains of water which cleansed the world – it was majestic. Safe and protected, he could still loudly hear the downpour smash against the car top, the noise tuning out the faint music he'd put on earlier. The weather seemed angry, almost barbaric, quite the contrast with the harmony he was harbouring in his chest. He felt proud, mighty, and even excited, entertaining the knowledge that in just a few hours he would finally, at last, be able to frame his innocent angel in a way that honoured her, in a way that complimented her brilliance and purity. This time he'd have the proper tools at his disposition, everything he needed to make it _right_.

His vehicle was parked at what was now known as their usual spot, behind the large building of the fire department, a place where his presence was modestly hidden. He'd preferred picking her up directly at her dorm, but of course that would raise questions and would only lead to difficulties.  
Appearances had to be kept, after all. Talking with Maxine after class could still be considered normal, seeing as he was her teacher, but taking her to his house? Not so much.

A muted knocking drew his attention to the window, where a brunette with an umbrella was standing. Jefferson quickly unlocked the car door and let his student in.  
Maxine had managed to stay surprisingly dry, even with the heavy storm raging outside. He was glad she'd shown up; part of him had feared the weather might've discouraged her.

"Fuck, forgot my phone. Err, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to curse in your car."  
Jefferson chuckled. She didn't have to apologize to him for saying that when fucking her had been the only thing on his mind lately. They _were_ going to his house, weren't they?  
"Don't worry. I'll let you borrow mine if you need it."  
Though he didn't think it would come to that: she still needed a little more pushing. And in truth, he wasn't disappointed. Photographing her would be more than enough to satisfy his hunger. For now.  
"Are you okay, though, Max? I wouldn't want you to become ill." He pressed the back of his hand against her cheek, as if checking her temperature. "I wish I could've come to pick you up, instead of having you walk through this rain." Slowly he lowered his hand again and simply watched her, admiring her youthful beauty. The sound of raindrops faded in the background, and in that moment Maxine and himself were the only existing people on the planet. She was so… appealing. He could stare at her forever.

"It's okay, it's not that far. My friend let me borrow her umbrella. But yeah, the weather does suck. It's way too cold."  
"Ah… You didn't seem to mind the other day, though. If I recall correctly," he inserted a short pause, "you couldn't get enough of me."  
This elicited a blush from her part and he grinned smugly. He was going to have one hell of a time.


	28. Twenty-eight

_She was so lost._

The lemonade had a somewhat bitter taste to it, but underneath it its sweetness resided and that was the flavour Maxine loved most.

In fact the kitchen was part of a very large space which also included a dining corner and a living room. The wooden chair she was sitting on, at one of the counters separating the snug cuisine from the other areas, displayed detailed decorations of what appeared to be leaves and random shapes, making her believe it had to be handmade. Actually the entire room gave her that same impression. The carefully selected colours, the stylish composition and the smooth lighting: each element was just too perfect. It was as if Jefferson thought his house to be a photograph, one which he'd prepared profoundly.

The teacher in question was seated across from her, cleaning the lenses of his glasses. The top buttons of his white shirt were loose and Maxine found her eyes wandering to his revealed collarbones. Her gaze rolled along the line of his masculine shoulders and over his chest and progressively followed the length of his arms and ended up at his hands, which had ceased their actions and laid motionless on the table. His glasses were gone and when she looked up, she was greeted by a smiling face. "Spacing out, Max?"  
His voice startled her, but she tried her best not to let it show. It was embarrassing enough that he'd caught her watching him like that. "Sorry. I was just… I like your house. It's nice."  
"Thanks. It means a lot to me to hear that from you. Hopefully we can spend a decent amount of time together here in the future."  
She bit her lower lip. Was that an invitation? "Yeah, I'd like that."  
Jefferson nodded. "That's good." He eyed her intently, as if searching for something underneath her skin. Maxine fought off the urge to fidget under his penetrating regard.  
"Would you like some more lemonade?" he then inquired, changing his demeanour to something light and casual. She noticed the empty glass on the table in front of her and acquiesced. She wasn't thirsty anymore, but drinking would give her something to do. The idea of being at Jefferson's place made her nervous. What would people think if they knew?

"Here you go, Max." Jefferson placed the full lemonade glass on the table and the art student took a sip.

It would've be a lie to claim that he didn't occupy her mind almost constantly, and in class she did nothing but stare at him in what she hoped was a subtle manner, yet Maxine knew she was only agitated because she was _excited_. She'd never experienced this type of emotion before, with anyone. Jefferson made her feel things with such an intensity it scared her.

"Max?"

And there it was. Her name sounded so good on his tongue. She remembered their… activities in his car a few days earlier, the warmth of his body against hers, the prickling of his beard and her inability to remain quiet as he _devoured_ her…

Fuck.

She was so lost.


	29. Twenty-nine

_He was stronger than that._

"Very good. Now move your head a bit to the left."

He tilted the camera marginally and took the shot. Beautiful. The feminine angle of her chin, the barely noticeable specks spread under her eyes and across her nose, the pluck of hair slightly out of place: it was enthralling, it was 'Maxine' and it was something he'd cherish for as long as possible.

 _Open and vulnerable. That was how Maxine was feeling.  
She hadn't known what to expect, but it definitely hadn't been… this. Her heart kept a steady, albeit fast-paced rhythm as her teacher unleashed flash after flash upon her. Even though she was simply lying down, and he was simply photographing her, she felt connected to him, somehow, as if they were doing something much more personal and intimate than a simple photoshoot._

"Let me alter the lights… Better. Now don't move." The student remained still as he circled around her with his equipment, crouching from time to time, giving her orders and complimenting her. _  
_It was exactly as he'd imagined it would be, and more. Maxine was a good girl, obeying him without questions and letting him have his way. Of course he used his time well, making sure the portraits he created of her were thorough and successful. He just hoped Prescott would also do as told; then his weekend could not be ruined.

"I'm getting some magnificent shots here, Max. You're doing well."  
Despite her shyness, Jefferson was sure she was secretly enjoying it.

 _The female gulped. He was giving her that look again. She shifted her position on the floor and crossed her legs. It was weird being watched._

He himself, on the other hand, might've been enjoying it too much. With every click of his camera, the dim tension in his trousers grew, squeezing and twisting and at some point he had to excuse himself and rush to the bathroom in order to cool down. He wouldn't allow himself physical relief, though. He was stronger than that. While it was excruciatingly difficult to concentrate on the task at hand when his body reacted to her in such a way, he thought that taking care of his needs would only serve to undo the effect she had on him. He wanted to fully experience these moments, no matter how much self-control it required.  
Maxine deserved his complete focus, at least.

 _At least she felt alive. A tad uncomfortable, yes, but at the same time posing for Mark Jefferson gave her a sense of accomplishment. He was someone Maxine looked up to, someone she'd admired even before having met him in person. She had considered herself lucky to have him as her teacher.  
To be his model, however, was a totally different story. Knowing he wanted her to be there, in his own house, and seeing him work on her portraits with such passion and devotion was… inspiring._

 _Forcing herself to breathe out the last traces of whatever anxiety she had left in her, Maxine shifted her position once more and looked directly into the lens._

NOTE: Since my classes ended early today, I took the time to write you an extra chapter. Have a good week.


	30. Thirty

_Mr. Jefferson… please stay._

Photography was something she had loved since childhood. Playing around with images and laughing at weird positions and printing memories on a piece of paper, was just like –

"Max…"

The whisper drew her attention to the man standing closely to her, tall and _happy_ and handsome as hell.

"Thank you."

Jefferson's face had lit up and his smile was different, it seemed more genuine, and he looked at her like she was the only star in the whole universe. His gratitude (and admiration?) struck a nerve within her, making it snap. His hand left electric charges on her cheek. The caress was gentle, almost imperceptible, but its effects were undeniable and Maxine, though in a daze, lost and inexperienced, made a decision: she was going to move. _Move_.  
With a newfound surge of determination, the brunette crashed her mouth against Jefferson's, taking the initiative, for once. As the groan he created in the back of his throat vibrated against her lips, she finally realized what her instincts had been trying to tell her. The ever-present restlessness she experienced whenever she was near him dissolved into utter relaxation, which was quite disconcerting, seeing as she was now basically glued to him. Her contradictory emotions didn't make any logical sense, yet somehow being with him made a lot of sense.  
He kissed her back just as eagerly, if not more, turning his head to get better access and Maxine was reminded of the first time he'd done this to her, in the museum, where his expensive perfume had clouded her mind. The alluring scent was back, drawing her in, and she allowed her hands to wander over his chest. She could feel his quick breaths through the thin shirt he was wearing and it was reassuring to know he shared her exhilaration.

Her ears felt hot, her legs felt weak and her thoughts were swirling aimlessly around her skull, but then Jefferson broke the contact, pulling away from her, panting, licking his lips, watching her.  
"I don't think we… Excuse me." He turned to leave, but Maxine's hand grabbed onto his upper arm in a prompt reflex, causing him to stop in his tracks.  
"Mr. Jefferson… please stay."  
Something in her words or the tone with which she'd vocalised them must have convinced him, because the next moment his hands curled possessively around her waist and neck and his mouth was right back where it had been less than a minute earlier. Maxine was caught by surprise, but eased herself into his actions without much effort and let her eyes flutter closed. He was much more active now, handling her in a rather jolty and needy manner. His fingers jabbed at the base of her back, his mouth was all over her face and his breath was ragged. Maxine didn't think she could keep up with his rapid pace, but she didn't mind. She'd let him guide her, and follow.  
His lips descended upon hers anew, this time with renewed fervour. For an indefinite amount of time, likely seconds, though it seemed much, much longer, he kissed her and bit her and god, his hand descended and Maxine knew with certitude that she was blushing up a storm. When a slick appendage brushed over her lower lip she loosened up her muscles, permitting his tongue to slide past her teeth and into her mouth. It felt odd. Jefferson offered her no time to adjust to the intrusion, though, opting instead to hectically mark the inside of her mouth as his. It became difficult to keep standing, as his presence was simply overwhelming. His hand cupped her behind and started kneading it, while he rammed his body on hers, forcing her to step back.  
Maxine shivered as the extent of his mania made itself known in the form of a solid bulge nudging her intrepidly. Fuck. What had she gotten herself into? Her back hit a wall and his tongue was in her throat and she couldn't breathe nor think. Her heart was threatening to detonate. It felt cramped with him rubbing against her like that. She needed to breathe. She needed air. Fuck. He was going too fast. She couldn't handle this. Fuck, shit, fuck.

Shit.

Shit.

She tried to push him away, but he was _stuck_ , she had nowhere to go, she needed air, fuck, she was panicking, fuck, she didn't want him touching her, she was trembling, she had no strength and he wouldn't budge, her eyes felt moist and she choked on a sob –


	31. FIN

Hello, everyone.

After long and hard consideration, I have decided to discontinue this fanfiction. To be honest, I have fallen out of my 'LiS'-obsession long ago. I am starting to see writing as a task, something I have to force myself to do, and I do not believe that's the way it should be.  
I don't think me losing interest is a result of my depression (for which I've been taking medication for a couple of years now), since this is a problem I have had my entire life. I used to play the keyboard, but it got annoying, and I stopped. I used to draw, but it became a drag. I used to write, but it brought me no satisfaction. I used to create beautiful websites, I used to play the flute, I used to play badminton. I used to wake up early and jog for hours on end, but it became boring. And school has stopped stimulating me before I even got my first period. The only reason I'm in university right now, is to please my mother. I do not feel like studying, or working, or doing anything. Life feels empty, and it has been this way for most of my life. Nothing manages to hold my interest, and I imagine nothing will in the future.  
However, I do not wish to trouble you with my own bullshit. Everyone has problems, and everyone has their own views on life. I realise this news (the story being discontinued) must be disappointing for you all, who have been with me through it all and commented and pushed me to write, even if just for your sake and not mine. And I am sorry.

For this reason, I want to keep the door open for this fanfiction. I shall give you the summary of the plot (nothing is written in advance), so that, if anyone wants to continue this story, they know what to write:

 _Jefferson, though reluctantly, backs off and drives Max back to her dorm. Max notices the lock on her room is busted, but sees nothing out of place. While she searches her room, we switch to Jefferson who watches her through a hidden camera Nathan placed, and jacks off, finally relieving himself. Max and Jefferson will share a few light-hearted conversations throughout the following weeks, but nothing extraordinary happens (Max occasionally hangs out with Warren and Kate), until Jefferson asks Max to model for him again, to which Max agrees because she feels guilty for having pushed Jefferson away.  
Victoria and Nathan approach Max the following day, telling her to back off from Jefferson. In reality, Nathan has learned of Jefferson's plan and tries to warn Max, though he doesn't do a very good job at it. He doesn't actually want Max to get hurt, though he's the one who placed the camera in her room. Victoria has no idea of Jefferson's plan, or that Max will visit Jefferson that weekend. She is just pissed and jealous that Max talks with Jefferson after class.  
That weekend, Max models for Jefferson, and falls unconscious because Jefferson has put a drug in her drink. When she awakens, she is locked in a small room with a freezer (mentioned in chapter 13. The "he" mentioned in chapter 13 is Jefferson, by the way. Someone though that referred to Nathan, but that's not the case. I've only written from either Max's or Jefferson's POV)). She spends what seems like a day inside the room, confused, when the door opens and Nathan tries to let her escape. Max is still feeling dizzy so she can't walk very well and Nathan has to help her. They make it out of the basement, but then Jefferson appears out of nowhere and hits Nathan on the back of his head. Nathan falls on the floor, not moving. Jefferson had been hiding, waiting to see if Nathan would betray him (which he now obviously has). Max is still weak, but tries to run. Jefferson will have none of that, though, and rapes her brutally, unleashing his anger and lust. He stops mid-way to grab his camera and then continues, while taking pictures of Max whimpering beneath him. This chapter has a split-view, from both Max and Jefferson's POV. For Jefferson, this is heaven. For Max, this is hell.  
Afterwards Max is in the small room with the freezer, in pain and depressed. She becomes thirsty (and hungry) after a few days, and she's afraid she's going to die. She opens the freezer to see if there's, by chance, anything to drink or eat inside, and almost has a heart attack when she discovers Rachel's body. Max is broken, but after some more time her thirst drives her to lick the ice in the freezer (since ice is frozen water), though she's disgusted with herself.  
In the meantime, we switch to Jefferson again, who's teaching class. He notices Victoria is quieter than usual. He himself also misses Max's presence, but then looks at Kate and decides she's good enough to be his next subject.  
We go back to Max now, who's miserable and in her own little hell. The door of the small room opens, revealing Jefferson. He takes Max out of the room and photographs her, while giving a long speech about beauty and innocence (saying he's happy Max's last moments will be with him, seeing the portraits he took of her) and also talks about Rachel, though not too much. Jefferson had been in a sexual relationship with Rachel and photographed her, but murdered her accidentally with an overdose when Rachel refused to pose for him further. It is worth mentioning that Jefferson felt (slightly) guilty at this. Jefferson pursued a relationship with Max because he sort of wanted to replace Rachel and relive the memories he and Rachel had together. (Nathan never knew where Rachel was, but suspected Jefferson. Nathan is now long dead, by the way. Jefferson killed him, to silence him, and buried him in the junkyard.) After his long speech, Jefferson approaches Max with a syringe, quoting the game: "I promise, this final dose won't hurt." (check the exact quote)  
He drugs Max and Max dies. The last line of this fanfiction is the following one:  
'As the permanent/final/lingering/… darkness consumed her, one final thought crossed through her mind (you can phrase the previous sentence differently):  
She wouldn't make it to Chloe's concert after all.  
THE END' (the last phrase and 'THE END' have to remain unchanged, as this will have the maximum effect on the reader, in my opinion)_

That was it. If any of you wishes to finish it, go right ahead. You can always message me any question and I will answer if I see it.  
Once again, I apologize for this. Thank you all so, so much for having supported me. I never thought anyone would even like my writing. Thank you. I wish you all the best.

FIN


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